QUOTE(quizbo @ Dec 20 2004, 05:18 PM)
Liz is not particularly attractive
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This is a common misconception, and one from which my wife long suffered. Support for this theory (that Liz is vomitously repugnant) is evident in her grainy album art. After all, why would she obscure herself behind shoddy photographs if she was hot? Right? Right? Deep as this question is, and wrong as it was to maintain this unseemly falsehood--I never bothered to correct my wife's error. It seemed 'wild and unwise' to reveal the truth about Liz: that not only is she supernaturally intelligent and artistic, but that she is also UFO hot. But with each passing season, my wife grew increasingly suspicious.
"Is she really hideous?" she would ask, as we drove in our car, listening to Divorce Song (appropriately), with the kids singing along in their carseats.
"Yes," I would reply, adding: "you can't hardly stand to look at the woman. That's why you never see any pictures of her. In fact, she's so goddamned unfriendly to the eyeball, you could pin her picture under the sink to scare the kids away from the nasty chemicals."
"You mean like Mr. Yuck?"
"EXACTLY. She's a
Mrs. Yuck. Think of her
that way."
"But doesn't she have a kid?"
"Well, sure," I said, explaining (in gut wrenching detail) how the twin technological miracles of artificial insemination and interplanetary robotics had succeeded in
finally impregnating the pitiful, untouchably heinous girl..
Many years passed.
Then, inevitably, the fucking illusion came to a crashing halt during the 2005 Liz Phair tour. We arrive late. I am hoping for a big crowd, to supply the needed confusion to maintain the myth. But only about 75 people show up (or so it felt like). We stand at the very back (twenty feet from the stage) well out of the melee of teenage girls and computer programmers, all vying for position, each ready to blurt HWC in their own special way. Plan C, to get my wife haplessly stoned, has also failed. She senses danger. Her eyes are like those of a furtive rabbit, sensing the onset of forest fire. The lights go down.
"Who the fuck is THAT?" asks my wife.
"Who?"
"That GIRL," she growls, gesturing with crossed arms. "Is that HER?"
"You mean the one who looks like Bullwinkle?"
"No, goddamnit, that hot bitch next to Bullwinkle."
"Oh, the one who looks like Rocky?"
She takes a closer look. Plan C, thank god, is flowering in the nick of time. She giggles, helpless to fight about it. "What do you know," she laughs, nodding for the joint, "they
do kinda look like Rocky and Bullwinkle."
(It was a good show, by the way)
And that's how my wife learned the hideous truth about Liz Phair.